


This Dope Sick Love

by ItsPennyBitches



Series: This Dope Sick Love [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Drug Use, Heroin, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michelangelo Centric, Other, This is going to get very dark, just a forewarning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsPennyBitches/pseuds/ItsPennyBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michelangelo is entering highschool along side his brothers after years of homeschooling. Things don't go quite as he planned for him however, he's struggling to keep his pace up while his brothers seemingly excell beyond. Being very used to the patience and paced life he's lived at home, Mikey doesn't speak out for fear of ruining his family's happiness, and continues to struggle with added pressure of the typical teenage self-conscious attitude upon entering the school.</p><p>When he befriends a kid who seemingly suffers with these similar struggles, things seem to ease as Mikey learns to handle things in all the wrong ways. Along the way, Michelangelo forms himself an addiction his brothers are seemingly clueless about, experiences tragedy with sudden and unexpected loss, and soon enough is taken advantage of in his weakest state.</p><p>Follow him through out his journey of his Dope Sick Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd, and may have more than a few spelling errors with my mild dyslexia, so please let me know if you see any! If you like this, please tell me if I should post the entire thing here! The first chapter is just a test run to find out the popularity of reading this type of thing!
> 
> ALSO, MULTI-CHAPTERED, DON'T WORRY I'M NOT DONE
> 
> I've seen so many other centric stories revolving around his brothers, but for once, I feel like making my favorite babe suffer. Do enjoy reading, and if you have any ideas for other possible stories, drop them by in the comments! I'm more than 90% sure I'll end up writing it!

Tremors. Cold, yet scalding hot shakes that wracked through his body like an earthquake, not allowing his being and aching muscles a moment of peace, and hell have it, his mind for that sake. He couldn’t stand, nor sit down for too long while his immune system felt like it was constantly under attack, the irregular slow beating of his heart near aching beneath his rib cage, the bitten skin on his knuckles drier than bone, yet his flesh was slick with sweat.

 

His breathing was reduced to desperate huffs, an attempt to get more air into his lungs that simultaneously felt like bursting at any moment. It was like being sick with a bad cold that was multiplied times ten. Almost a plague like symptoms you could say.

 

That’s what withdrawal does to you, he supposes.

 

It forces you to feel like you literally need to crawl right out of your own skin, even shed your bone, until nothing remains…

 

 

* * *

 

“Who in the world Am I?”

 

 

“ Ah, well, that’s a great question.”

 

 

* * *

 

Migraines.

 

Piercing, sickening pain that throbbed, maybe in only one part of his head, should heaven have mercy. But typically, there was no merciful presence upon him, now of days. Even so, the thickening irritability that had boiled within his cranium had begun to reduce to a level sting while his meditation deepened.

 

Yeah, you heard right.

 

Michelangelo was meditating, cross-legged onto the carpeted floor of his rarely clean room, small candles alight. The whole shebang.

 

Things had been quite peaceful too, until the loud guffaw of the second eldest had reverberated even beyond the closed door between them. His sitting position slouched in an almost defeated manner as the ache came back full force. Recently, his brothers had played a constant variable within the proverbial bloodied war within Mikey’s tattered thoughts. Oh, how ironic that the very embodiment of his love and joy, had been the cause of his internal despair.

 

Internal, being key word in this strange inner monologue.

 

High School, however, played the rest. Like a carnivorous plant, right when Michelangelo had been enraptured in it’s sweet, deceiving lies, before snapping shut and trapping him in a tightly knitted hell. That wasn’t nearly an accurate enough metaphor for what his experience had been so far.

 

But how he was supposed to sit for seven to eight hours in a **_completely_** unstimulated environment was a question he had come to just accept that would never have a straight answer. He had honestly given up trying, which was something he’s sure his father would be ashamed to hear.

 

“Excuses are tools of the incompetent…” Mikey muttered to himself in mock of his sensei’s wise words. A hand dragged sluggishly over his face, pulling the skin down and likely leaving it an angry red when he stopped. Yet the slight twinge in Splinters usually stoic expression when ever he happened to look at the youngest, left a spark of hope that maybe he had begun to notice the negative effects within him. Just maybe, his sensei might ask what was troubling him.

 

Why was he choosing to wait though? Why couldn’t he just walk up to his father and tell him, ‘Hey, school sucks, this isn’t working for me, I want out’?

 

Because Michelangelo always chose others happiness before his own. Call it his hamartia, his Achilles heel, whatever so does please you, it all means the same. It was a weakness he would never learn to get over. Something that had burned itself into his _self morals_ and _personal values_ in life.

 

Just the thought invoked a heavy sigh from him. He should really start learning how to be selfish. If not for the good of others, than for the good of his own well being.

 

Mikey rose from the rather solid position he had held on the floor, a quick glance at his phone screen telling him he had been there for at most, three hours. 6:20 p.m. it read. Figures. Raph’s show always comes on at six. No wonder he was being so loud.

 

Not that he usually wasn’t, anyways. At least, not **cheerfully** so.

 

That wasn’t the point though. He would ultimately have to leave the sweet confines of his sanctum, and face his family, forced to hear about their day during dinner no doubt. Great, right? It should be. Yet the miniscule green of envy couldn’t help but to worm its way into his heart every time, much to his dismay. It didn’t help that he was the one to ask the question each night either. 'Tis the curse of being the _good child. **Hah.** 'Good child'_ his ass.

 

The tiny flickering flames were each put out between the moistened thumb and index finger, not allowing the slightly acrid scent of smoke to waft about. Why did he have such a regrettable feeling about tonight?

 

Eventually, with heavy steps, he stretched in his own doorway and left his room, wishing he could leave the migraine there as well. Like all problems, however, they don’t just dissipate, even with the aid of time.

 

The lights through out the bedroom hallways were turned off, and at this, Michelangelo could momentarily thank whoever had bothered to do such a kind act. He just hopes he doesn’t trip down the stairs though. Passing each closed bedroom on his way, he thoughtlessly made his way downstairs, ignoring the random placement of Donatello’s books along his path. Ugh. _Men_.

 

Yet not even halfway down the steps, and he could already smell the evenings meal being prepared, something he normally would have loved. Now, it just sent a slight wave of nausea through him, causing an uncomfortable shudder down the base of his spine. Mikey paused to push his discomfort down, lacing his fingers through the unruly blond hair atop his head, eyes squeezed shut. Just as he had been taught, he began the spelling of random words that popped into his mind, distracting the ill set feeling in his stomach with hopes of it not rising to his throat.

 

 _S-i-c-k_. He felt sick. He needs to feel calm. _C-a-l-m_.

 

A grin spread its way across his face.

 

But right now, he’s having a _calamity_. _C-a-l…_

 

The dumb internal pun was interrupted sadly by one of his older sibling shouting his name from some unknown place in the living room, obviously unaware of his presence on the staircase.

 

Michelangelo rolled his blue eyes beneath the lids.

 

“What?!” He shouted back, equally as loud while making his way down the rest of the stairs. Two can play at that game.

 

No sooner had he yelled back, did the taller pop up right in front of him, directing his gaze upwards. Raphael.

 

“Why are you yelling?” The redhead questioned with a knowing smirk, arms folded laxly across his chest. He only received a nasty (deserved) look from the youngest before Michelangelo diverted his way around him.

 

Mikey should have expected the rather forceful tug on the back of his shirt, resulting in him stumbling right into Raph’s arm that locked his neck in position, making him bend slightly to prevent . “Oh, come on, you know I’m just kidding.” His knuckles mussed the blond locks into even more of an atrocity, the strength going unchecked per usual. While normally he would have laughed, maybe poked the other in the ribs until he ducked away with laughter, the heavy scent of his cologne was beginning to make his head spin and his near-restricted breathing was almost painful The younger pried his head from between Raphael’s bicep and forearm with a disgruntled noise, huffing with annoyance once he managed freedom.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” Came his nonchalant response while walking towards their dining room. That familiar heavy arm rested around his freckled shoulders however, pulling Mikey closer to his brother. “Hey now…” Raph attempted, a slightly concerned gaze furrowing his brows, but he still kept his half smirk. “We cool?”

 

Of course they were cool. Michelangelo was just being touchy for unknown, but valid reasons.

 

His older brother seemed satisfied with the ease into his grasp and accompanied nod though as they continued on. The sight that greeted them was Donatello placing silverware and porcelain plates onto the clothed table, while Leo carried dishes of food, steam curling invitingly off them.

 

For now, he would pretend to miss the shared glance between the two eldest.

 

Their father entered the room not but a few seconds later than they had seated themselves, Michelangelo placed near Leonardo, the others respectively across from them. Splinter relaxed at the head of their table, their thanks said before everything began to be passed around.

 

An awkward air settled around them as they all ate in silence, Michelangelo ignoring the pointed look from his father while the others stared. Had he been feeling particularly ballsy, he would have just asked ‘What’. There was no need for that kind of disrespect, however. Why his siblings felt the need to also stare between the two of them, as if the mood hadn’t been thick enough to cut with a knife, escaped him.

 

“Your teacher’s called me, Michelangelo.” Their father finally began while said child began slowly rearranging the shape of his peas.

 

“That’s nice.” He muttered in return, chin tucked into the palm of his hand, elbow placed onto the table.

 

The twitch of irritation his features was caught in the peripheral of his gaze pointed at the food, and he almost felt like laughing at the rather astonished looks of his brothers faces. Donnie’s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, and he tensed, like he wanted to advise against speaking to their father with such distaste.

 

A moment of continued silence passed as Splinter began cutting the meat placed onto his plate. “... Yes, you would think so, if it hadn’t been about the poor state of your grades.”

 

Shit. Michelangelo completely forgot about them mentioning that before he left for the day. Not expecting them to go through with it was probably wrong of him. He certainly gave them no reason to resist doing so.

 

“You’re telling me this like it’s a surprise or something, father.” The fork in his hand clanked noisily against the plate, scraping it with a mildly obstinate manner. Mikey personally hated the sound himself, it sent unpleasant stinging in the back of his head, closest to his ears. It almost resembled his current emotion right now. Pure, unadulterated annoyance.

“This is a surprise.” Splinter began, setting his own fork down beside the plate, alongside its matching knife. “You are a very bright child and I know this from experience. There is no reason for your average to be so low. I feel the problem with you, is your stubborn attitude.”

 

Michelangelo did chuckle at that, silverware clattering against his plate. “Even with your perfect vision, you always did have trouble seeing what was right in front of your face.” He bitterly snapped, staring down his father’s judging gaze. If the room hadn’t been completely quiet, then it certainly was now. The slight darkening of his face didn’t seem to phase him like it normally would, in any other situation. .

 

He mumbled a quick ‘Excuse me’ and pushed away from the table, food untouched. His name was called, but it went unanswered as he retreated back to his room reticently, the door closed behind him.

 

A thumb hovered over the lock for a long, contemplative moment, before he decided against it.

 

There would no doubt be later repercussions from his choice of actions, but right now, falling face first into his bed, he paid no heed to what would happen at a later time. Fists balled up into the welcoming sheets and countless covers, only after his shirt was shed, revealing the mass of freckles aligning his shoulders and neck that undoubtedly covered his cheeks as well. Almost as if someone had taken a hand full of the nights stars and thrown them onto his skin, like glitter to a sun-kissed canvas.

 

Thousands of thoughts flooded through his mind though, once his fair eyelashes brushed the pillow while closing. He could have told them. Everything. About his pain. His struggling through the days with an apathetic mask that frightened even himself.

 

But he couldn’t. Even if he wanted to.

 

He wouldn’t.

 

Splinter had only been partially right about his ‘stubborn attitude’. Hell, he would have hit the nail on the head if he had a slightly more insightive notion.

 

We all know how that had hurdle had been ignored, however.

 

 

* * *

 

A light and dreamless state had overtaken him before he had realized it.

 

Yet even so, waking up to the muted sound of his alarm enveloped his actions in a thick sheet of restricting velvet and befuddlement, staring at the blurred blue numbers within the dark room before realizing he was up an hour early.

A cold chill swept over his body, startling him into a stark awareness of how he had forgotten to pull the covers onto himself before actually falling asleep.

 

If this didn’t upset him, then the fact he would have to go back to the hellishly monochromic confines in a few hours certainly made up for it. His groggy state only felt heavier with that in mind.

 

Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up, knowing that if he did it too quickly, the blood would rush to his face, leaving him unbearably stunned for the moment being. The slight ache in his back reminded him of the hours spent in one place seated on his floor. Nothing he couldn’t put up with, however.

 

Unsteady legs draped over the side of his mattress, bare feet grazing the carpet while he regained his bearings. Chills raised the hair along his arms and neck at the warmer possibility of a steaming hot shower, and soon began powering his legs on that ideal alone.

 

Clean clothes were plucked from his open drawers, tossed onto the marble counters of their shared bathroom sink, the old tossed into the clothes hamper. As much as he resented it, the shower was short and sweet, knowing that if he wanted to prolong the inevitable confrontation of his earlier actions, he would need to leave before anyone was awake. Knowing his father, however, he would already be up, hopefully not downstairs, where the only exit happened to be.

 

Living in one of the tightly knitted houses, stacked up side by side, left no room for a backyard or a front one for that matter. That was New York, he supposed.

 

Stepping out the shower, he quickly dried himself off, draping the fluffy towel loosely over his head while tugging his clothes on. Said towel was hung to dry, and he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth.

 

What he hadn’t expected, was to bump face first into the chest of Leonardo, who looked just as surprised as Mikey felt.

 

Why was he up this early?

 

Then again, the older was probably questioning that right back at him internally. In a hushed voice, Michelangelo apologized, grinning meekly up at the raven before attempting to make a clever escape.

 

It proved futile though, when he was pulled back and spun around to face him, leaving the younger dizzy before he could process what had happened.

A hug. It was a tight, warm hug, that somehow felt even better than the shower he had just taken, and it was nothing less than completely and utterly welcomed. His bespeckled arms wrapped around him instinctively, and his head rested onto Leo’s right shoulder. He briefly wondered how long it had been, since he had hugged any of them like this…

 

Before too much emotion could well up though, he pulled away with a glassy gaze, giving him a reassuring smile to the almost worried frown, but Mikey didn’t stick around look any longer.

 

Eventually, he was let go, and left to head downstairs to retrieve his book bag from their coat closet, stringing their school iD around neck, and slipping on socks and shoes before leaving through the door as quietly as he could.

 

Shakily, he breathed out the raw and exposed feeling his emotions had been reduced to, from just a simple hug nonetheless. Thier affection, was almost dangerous, where it should been inviting. Too much of a slip up, and he would have a huge mess bloodying his hands…

 

Michelangelo checked his pocket for the phone he had snatched off its charger before leaving, sighing when he found it was safely tucked in its original place. He honestly couldn’t handle walking back into house, with hidden traps just waiting to ensnare him, like his eldest brother’s had just done.

 

The thought had occurred to him though, that he had not eaten since the previous day, but that could fixed with a quick stop by a convenient store.

 

His walk had ended up being a rather peaceful one, silent, undisturbed, deathly so almost if hadn’t been for the occasional chirp of early rising birds. The sky was a dark blue-orange hue still, decorated with the occasional cloud drifting by. Street lamps had still been left on and the whole scenery was just a very pleasant ordeal.

 

He was slightly ashamed, when the sudden vibration of his phone against his thigh solicited a small jump. His pace paused, and he tugged out the device, near instantly smiling when he saw the message.

 

‘ _Love you baby bro._ ’

 

It was Leo’s number. Mikey was quick to respond back.

 

‘ _Love you 2_.’ A countless number of dumb emoticons followed the text, something that would hopefully put his seemingly troubled relative to rest.

 

The rest of the way to the store was slightly more blissful…

 

 

Too bad it wouldn't stay that way for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mild Abuse?
> 
> Maybe. Towards the end, someone said it drifted a tad too close to tcest, but I promise that wasn't the intention!
> 
> Just envision it how you want to lovelies!

* * *

“I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?”

* * *

 

It’s now 10:31, and Mikey knows this because he’s checked his phone each second since arriving to class, already wondering when the day is going to end.

 

A clear sign that today was going to suck balls.

 

He kind of wished he had just stayed at the store, and chatted with the sweet elderly woman who always went off on a tangent about her cats whenever he arrived. She had seemed rather joyous to see him so early in the day, given the only time he visited was around noon, when he traveled off campus to retrieve snacks.

 

Speaking of, the food he had only half finished still sat in his bag while he stared emptily out the open window closest to his desk. Countless engravings had be etched into the bland coloured tops of any seat that had the honor of with holding the magnificently bored Michelangelo.

 

His chin lazed in the palm of his left hand, eye’s blankly staring at the empty white notebook paper before him, name and date lingering in the upper right corner.

 

What class, you might ask, does he happen to have that could possibly make him hate his very existence.

 

Literature, of course.

 

Now, contrary to what you might be thinking, he honestly does love learning, especially the arts of language, simply because it’s a rather free forming art that requires little rules. But when the teacher himself insists on singling you out each and every morning, to add on to the students who seem to have a personal vendetta against his enjoyment, well…

 

Shit just sucks. Speaking of which…

 

“Psst!” Great. An hour in.

 

“Hey, Blondie!” The whisper, despite coming from the far back of the class, clearly had the entire rooms attention but Michelangelo’s. And the rather ‘preoccupied’ teacher, of course. Even he wouldn’t do anything about what was going to happen.

 

Slowly- and when I say slow, I mean painstakingly so- he swerved his head around to stare at his assailant blankly, frowning almost.

 

“...What?”

 

A rather butch kid, well known yet not the slightest bit attractive, held a smug smirk at the no doubt stellar question he was about to ask.

 

Josh. Who else could it be, but the very same disgusting pissant that insisted his morning cup of coffee come with an extra serving of douche bag?

 

He leaned forward on his elbows, a clear mock of intending to ask a serious question.

 

“So, now, tell me if I’m wrong here, but I might have heard you would, uh…” An obscene jester was made with his hand and mouth, tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek. “Suck for a buck.” A bill was pulled from his jacket pocket, and pulled at either end between his hands, thick and dark eyebrows waggling suggestively toward Mikey.

 

The class erupted in a muted roar of snickering and muffled laughter, if not at the joke, then the reddening of his cheeks in embarrassment.

 

What came out of Michelangelo’s mouth next, was something of a knee-jerk reaction.

 

“I wasn’t aware you had anything down there.”

 

The peanut gallery quickly changed from laughter to a chorus of ‘Oh’s’ and ‘Got ‘em’s’. Of course the teacher would choose to pay attention now. The spectacled man glanced up from the stack of papers he had currently been working on, hushing the amused crowd with a few stern words.

 

Then Josh opened his filthy mouth once more. “My bad Mr.C, but uh, Michelangelo was soliciting me for sexual activities.”

 

…

 

Silence ensued.

  


And then a near skull cracking thunk came from said persons desk, Mikey’s forehead colliding with the binder purposefully hard, eyes squeezed shut to prevent from seeing the countless looks turned towards him.

 

“Mich-” Was all the instructor could get out before being interrupted.

 

“Don’t.” Came Michelangelo’s voice above his, rising up from his seat, plastic binder forcefully shoved into his backpack before it was slung over one of his shoulders, walking to the front of the class, and then towards the door.

 

Nothing was said when he walked right out, slamming it behind him.

* * *

  


It’s honestly quite a shame, when Mikey realizes he’s never just walked around New York before. He’s never had time to take in the near constant moving of the city people, the plethora of sights and smells, sounds.

 

The city itself breathed and bled humanity. It thrived upon the effort put into reshaping ideas as soon as they were finalized, craving one goal, a most common in fact.

 

Perfection.

 

It was purely instinct to strive for perfect, to want and feel like things were right in their entirety. And you know, things just might be that way, if there was only one type of dream.

 

But looking himself, watching the different faces and expressions of people passing by, cars whirring along wet asphalt, harsh neon lights blinding anything within his peripheral… It’s clear there’s never going to be a peaceful middle ground.

 

Not with how starkly different everyone is.

 

So on, he continued walking, not quite sure where he was heading, or what he might find, because his ignorance of what the present held was near blissful.

 

Anything could happen.

 

That’s the way he want’s it to stay.

* * *

 

A park. Evergreen trees, plump waddling duck mothers with yellow babies following, dogs attached to leashes.

 

It all harmonized with the dimming of the day’s sun, hours ticking by like steady breathing, quick and instinctively.

 

Michelangelo has spent the majority of his day here. How that could have happened, was a question he was willing to leave the gods answering.

 

Not that he believed in any. That’s another matter, however.

 

His cross legged stance on a bench facing the public garden’s body of water had long since grown numb. Comfortably so, at least. He watched ants crawl across the barren dirt that might seem like miles, for such a tiny creature. The ripple of the mucked water fascinated him in an unearthly way, and the chilled wind that was brought with the high moon sent hair raising upon his arms and legs.

 

The deep green back pack he had adorned with countless buttons of phrases and characters alike lay propped up against his thigh, papers within having been shifted about. He had managed to find the motivation to finish any assignments he may have been avoiding, for one dumb reason or another. That might have been what drew him away from the surrounding world for a good majority of the day.

 

Slowly, he unwound his legs, stretching them out over the cool metal of the seat, wincing when his bare calves brushed it. Dazing off might not have been the best idea, while dressed in khaki shorts. At least the sleeves of his shirt were longer, pulled over his hands to preserve what warmth they had.

 

Days had long since grown shorter, when nights began getting colder, and decorative fairy lights adorned trees.  

 

Said lights were now glowing about, casting a yellow hue through the dusty brown branches, and blurring into a mass in his unfocused eyes.

 

The thought suddenly occurred of what time it was. He fished the phone from his lower short pockets, holding the power button with his index to turn it back on.

 

A sudden barrage of sounds emitted from it.

 

37 text messages. Ten missed calls, one from either brother.

 

The last, being from his father.

 

That can’t be good.  

 

He didn’t bother going through any of his messages, knowing they all said something of the same message, deleting them quickly before slinging his bag over his back. Standing, he stretched his arms out, turning his neck side to side.   
  
It had already gotten to 8:30.

 

The walk back the way he came had brought him to a sudden realization that he was going to face at least twice the punishment he would have gotten, should he had returned home at a normal hour.

 

At least he had found a new place to escape too.

 

Brooklyn Bridge Park...

 

* * *

His shoes hitting the cement of the sidewalk couldn’t have been any more of a wake up call to his impending doom than if someone were to slap him on the mouth. But willing his legs to walk any slower now, would just be a death sentence…

 

The familiar door of his abode stared him down like the eyes of a mad prowling serpent, ready to consume him with slow digestion should his hand inch any closer to the knob. Options of an avoiding route had already been drawn through with a big red metaphorical line.

 

Mikey had already thought over sleeping outside, crossing that out of the question quicker than lightning could have struck. That left his tolerant companions.

 

Yet April’s house was just too risky with her father being such a stickler, and Casey’s?

 

Hah, how about never. Even if his little sister was an absolute doll who would be delighted to see him. She would no doubt keep him up all night with tea parties and make overs.

 

Not that he minded that at all. It was Casey himself, that intimidated him.

 

Why didn’t Mikey have any friends that weren’t only interested in knowing his brothers? Not to mention, at least somewhat equal in age?

 

The door suddenly swung open however, not permitting the pondering of the thought any longer, because just missing getting decked in the head was not a task the slow could perform.

  
He dodged back, mildly surprised to find a set of deeper blues starring back with equal shock.

 

Leonardo and him must have some sort of strange paranormal link because they always seem to bump into each other at the worst moments. Some might call that fate.

 

But right now, he didn’t exactly seem too happy to see him. Even if the majority of worried texts were from him.

 

Watching the shock quickly fade into that of oddly mixed relief and anger was quite the show that only prompted a nervous upturn of Mikey’s lips.

 

“Uh… Hey, Leo…” The ‘Hey’ was drawled out to a quiet, unsure tone, that could have resembled a squeak, but nevertheless it didn’t lessen the look of unhappiness upon the elders face.

  


“Get in the house.” Leonardo’s order was quick and bland, no hesitance in letting it be known  that Mikey wasn’t getting off easy with him.

 

His command was obeyed, as soon as he switched places with the youngest, hauling a heavy trash bag in one hand, and a few smaller ones in the other. The air within the house was much warmer than it could have ever been outside that night, already causing a pleasant flush in Michelangelo’s cheeks. Book bag tossed into their closet, he unlaced his shoes at the bottom of the stairs, not bothering to watch his brother throw the bags angrily into the large garbage can, and waltz right into the house, door closing behind him.

 

“Mikey’s here!” Echoed his yell through the house, completely ignoring the blonde sitting before him, not even moving his eyes in that direction before stomping off to the kitchen.

 

Multiple doors could be heard opening and closing, Michelangelo’s head tilting backwards to watch the two others arrive at the top. If he were any more upside down, their frowns could almost be smiles.

 

_Fat chance that would be the case._

 

He stood up before they began heading down simultaneously, knowing it was best to stay where he was before having their typical kitchen meetings after shit goes down.

 

They would want to talk to him before Splinter had his head, at least.

 

Donnie was the first to open his mouth however, Raphael’s brow twitching in irritance.

 

“Where the **hell** were you?!” He questioned in a hushed voice, grabbing the youngers hand, only to pull away. “And why are you so freaking cold?! Jesus, were you outside?”

 

 _Duh_. Of course he was. He’s positive they could smell it in the air around him, so why the question came up, was left to Donatello's mother-hen instinct that never failed when it came to any of his siblings.

 

“No where important D, stop worrying so much…” Mikey attempted, huffing slightly. It really wasn’t that big of a deal….

 

“Obviously, since you couldn’t bother to answer your fucking phone!” The older of the two snapped, narrowing his eyes at him. “ Where do you get off just, skipping school, and then not answering a single call? Midwood called Dad again, and he’s seriously pissed off. Leo just got bitched out for not keeping an eye on you.”

 

Michelangelo watched the soft exchange of a swat from Donatello, muttering something about Raph's language, but his eyes were blank at the spectacle, the blondes mind elsewhere.

 

That explains it. Of course Leo wouldn’t be that angry from Michelangelo just leaving. He probably didn’t even notice until the three of them had gotten home, usually at separate times.

 

Just the thought made his stomach twist, however. In sorrow, perhaps?

 

Or maybe, slight anguish.

 

Is it really that easy, to just forget Michelangelo exists?

_Probably._

 

 A synchronized jump filtered through them Splinters sudden tone, and Mikey’s siblings shared a glance of worry. This wasn’t going to be pretty.  

 

There wasn’t time left to give any thought to the situation though, because their father was apparently waiting in the kitchen with Leonardo no doubt, and he sounded none too pleased…

 

_Then again, Why would he be?_

 

They all ended up shuffling to the kitchen in a slow march, no more worried looks shared between them once they could all be directly seen. Around their island they stood, Michelangelo of course ending up the closest to his master.

 

He didn't dare look. 

 

Even so, Michelangelo could practically feel the anger seeping off him in bitter waves, his gaze pointedly directed at the youngest.

 

“You know, what this is about, son.”

 

He probably should have been more afraid, much more, even shaking at the dark pitch that threatened to tear his inner most concentration to not whimper. 

 

“Yes, Father.” Mikey dryly replied, surprisingly audible. 

 

“Where were you.” There was no upward tilt at the end of his question to even hint that Splinter meant it to be optional. No dodging this one. 

 

“At a park, father.” And at this Michelangelo swallowed thickly, all the days earlier tension slipping back into the muscles of his back and shoulders. His hands hung limply at his hips, twitching with the folded him of his shirt anxiously. This intimidation wasn’t exactly necessary, but with his father, there was no room for error, unless it was allowed.

 

Which was hardly, of course.

 

“Interesting.” It really wasn’t. They all knew that. “Do explain, why you happened to think it was alright, to simply, leave your campus in the middle of a class? Or, perhaps why you couldn’t bother to tell one of your brothers where you might be going?”

 

“.... I-I don’t know…” Michelangelo’s stutter couldn’t have been any more of an unnecessary show of fear. His heart practically palpated at how intense it was beating, and might as well have just sunk into his stomach, and dissolved in the acid.

 

“Then, you do not have a valid reason, for disappearing as well?”

 

Oh, he _did_. Doesn’t mean he was going to tell his father he couldn’t handle a little teasing. He didn’t need them thinking any lower of him than they already did. That's all he needed for his already delicate self conscious. 

 

His hands stopped moving, clenching into fists while he held his tongue. A decision had to be made. Too bad it couldn't have been the **right** one.  “No Father. None.”

 

The next few moments were completely silent, and he took this moment to look up at his brothers for any semblance of divine intervention. 

 

None. The oldest stood by each other, Raphael's glare having flitted away to a worried glance, yet Leo's face had yet to change.

 

Donatello seemed reluctant to look at anywhere other than the counter of the island.

 

…

 

And before Michelangelo knew it, his head swung forcefully to his right, from the force of his fathers slap.

 

His cheek went numb in pinpricks.

 

_Then, it burned so hot, **it itched.**_

 

He didn’t exactly register what had just happened in his mind, until he spotted the look of shock on his siblings face’s, just from the edge of his vision, before hot tears slid down his chilled skin. It didn’t make sense, as to why he was crying. He wasn’t upset in the slightest. Even his lower lip had yet to tremble, as it so often did in his fit of emotions that provoked the waterworks.

 

His fear had simply left with any semblance of tension. A tactic they had been taught to use only to resolve the prying of information about their family, and what secrets they've long since buried. 

 

Michelangelo didn’t exactly feel anything, at that current moment, if that wasn't clear by his mannerisms. His face held no sign of discomfort, he looked relaxed, a late viewer could say. The glossy baby blues, might even seem a bit, dead, for lack of a better word other than ‘Empty’.

 

He hadn’t realized he was staring his father in the eye, until his mouth parted, and moved on its own accord.

 

“And what did that solve?”

 

Leonardo lunged forward the minute he watched his fathers hand swing a second time, but it was all too late, and his efforts to lessen the punishment proved futile. What caused the sudden change of heart would remain unknown. 

 

Michelangelo was knocked against the sink on his left from Splinters heavy hand bearing down in a loud swat across the same spot, and there would no doubt be a bruise forming there in the early morrow. He couldn’t care less.

 

Strange, right?

 

He should know better, not to speak against his father.

 

The second time around, Michelangelo felt a jolting epiphany towards his previous actions, and how rare it was, he angered his Master in such away. He stared wide eyed into the sink for a prolonged interlude, gripping the reflective surface with white knuckles and strained fingertips. Tear drops seemed to slow in their gravitational journey to the inside of the sink, and Mikey almost wished his sickness had too. It came in forceful heaves of everything he had eaten prior to that moment, which thankfully wasn't much. But in turn, it left a series of dry heaves that only left his lungs sore and tired. 

 

Everything came rushing into him like a swift hit to the gut, and only the sounds of his puking lilted in the surrounding space where silence could no longer fill. His family stood, and watched with horrified confusion of what to possibly do, in a situation like such. No one moved an inch. 

 

Splinter, now had a lingering guilt and shameful air, his right palm a hot red. Losing control of himself was something that was still an unfamiliar feeling to the others. They didn't know when he would snap, or what he could possibly do when he did. 

 

How does  one manage to be fatherly after striking their youngest child?

 

He reached for the youngest, but Michelangelo only clambered back away from him, the small of his back hitting the counter top behind. It could have been painful, were it any more forceful... He stood there, narrowed pupils darting frantically around at their faces, before he turned and left towards the stairs, soundlessly moving to their bathroom…

* * *

 

The burning of acid coating his inner throat, was enough of a distraction to keep his mind of the throbbing in the side of his face, already swelling with speckles of red lingering about the freckles.

 

Blood vessels, likely, that had burst from the forced trauma.

 

It felt like they had also done so within his cranium, if the slight dizziness was anything to go by. He’s not sure how long he had stared at the mirror before twisting on the cool water with a shaking hand, and cupping both beneath the stream in the cream coloured sink.

 

Hot and sticky tears were replaced with refreshing cold splashes, but the relief ended too soon when his thumb grazed too close to his flesh, and pressed right into the struck cheek.

 

A whining grunt strangled past his lips and the threat of crying again threatened to constrict his lungs in a sob. Sheer will power allowed him to swallow it down with the dull nails digging into the meat of his inner hands. Least say, it didn’t hurt anywhere close enough, to distract him from the other pain.

 

There was nothing cold or soothing to help with the pain. Only large pills he felt he could never swallow since failed attempts led to retching and gagging. 

 

_But the water helped._

_His entire body was shaking before he had realized that he stepped into the tub, and pushed on the faucet, fully clothed. Water as cold as hail poured down onto his scalp and Michelangelo almost jerked out of the way at the shock._

 

_Then he felt it touch the sides of his face._

 

_And everything was blissful._

_The cold water rinsed over the cotton of his clothing and soon it became heavy with the weight of the moisture. His body instinctively sunk down into the dip of porcelain, resting in the pooling water that rose and engulfed his being in a cool trap like thick honey. The stopper had been left snug in the drain for some unknown reason, but it didn’t seem to bother him._

_In fact, as he rested his back against the slight arch of the tub, nothing seemed to bother him once his eyelids grew heavy, and his arms turned to weights folded over his chest._

 

It hadn’t occurred to him, that he might have fallen asleep, until the doorknob was jerked open, and Raphael was jerking him out of the water that had seemingly flooded onto the floor, nearly pouring towards the door.

 

Michelangelo forgot to lock the door again. But he had only been in there a span of ten minutes, thankfully.

 

Still, He sputtered out a cough and grabbed onto his older brother for support from his weakened legs. Cold water was just as bad to a body as a live flame was. 

 

The flowing water was quickly shut off with a free hand, and it wasn’t until his feet touched the wet flooring before he felt the heat from his brothers bare chest, who might of been in the middle of his nightly routine before he discovered the flooding of their shared restroom. Water sloshed about when he stepped out, but it really felt no different out of the tub than in it. His lower lip's discolouration almost matched that of the tips of his fingers, and if that wasn't worrying, then what would be was an impossible question. 

 

Everything floated back to him like a doped state of peace that a druggie might feel. Earlier comments rattled a raspy chuckle from the blonde, feeling himself pulled into the lap of the older, who was swift, yet gentle, in tugging Michelangelo’s sodden shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor with a wet squelch while seated on the closed lid of their toilet.

 

“And D’ thought I was cold earlier…” He muttered out, feeling the muscles wrapping around his bare waist flex at the sound of his voice.

 

“Shut up Mike.”

 

Raph didn’t seem in the mood to joke, but his tone wasn’t harsh in the slightest. Mikey wasn’t exactly fit for arguing against him.

 

Tanned arms snaked around the red head’s neck, just in an effort to keep them closer, to keep him warmer than what he was feeling at the moment.

 

How **stupid** of him. Not the first stupid thing he’s done, if today’s events were given any thought to, but definitely the most draining.

 

They stayed there for a long moment, Mikey resting his good cheek in the crook of his brothers neck and shoulder, nearly falling asleep again before feeling his dripping hair pushed back from his forehead.

 

Warm lips touched his temple, soon pressing to his eyelid after a rough hand managed to softly tilt his head away from Raphael’s upper shoulder. His warmth was like an intoxicating fire that sent blood rushing through his abused heart and aching veins. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Were the words muttered into the tender skin below his eye. A frigid hand lie on either side of Raph’s upper bicep, and Mikey pulled away with a confused look.

 

“Don’t. I should have kept my big mouth shut.”

 

The look in the elders green eyes was enough to make Mike turn his head away, blinking tiredly. A thumb on his chin pulled it back, however.

 

“Hey…  He went overboard, and even Leo knows that.”

 

Michelangelo didn’t respond that time.

 

**Did Father?**

 

Or was it _really deserved?_

 

A clearing of someones throat startled both from their thoughts and their heads swiveled towards the doorway.

 

Donatello stood, looking thoroughly confused at the mess around them, then at Michelangelo himself. 

 

“W-....What?” His question hung in the air unfinished, but fully known. There was an obvious conflicting in his resistance to immediately rush over to their baby sibling.

 

His inquiry would be answered later though, because Raphael was already barking orders. Michelangelo could see right through his weak facade. He was flustered. 

 

That's adorable. 

 

“Hand me a towel, would you? And go get the mop downstairs, but keep it down.”

 

The request was met with a nod and urgency, soon said towel  wrapped around Mikey’s shoulders, and both were standing after he assured him that he could walk now, with more confidence in his legs than he had earlier.

 

They carefully stepped out of the bathroom, and Michelangelo was sent to his room to change into dry clothing while his two older brothers cleaned up the water.

 

The soft instruction of not to tell Leonardo or their Father anything didn’t get past the youngest so easily, even with the door closed.

 

His slow, sluggish movements made the removing of the rest of his clothing much more difficult than it could have been if that whole fiasco hadn’t just happened, but there was a feeling he would still be just as tired.

 

Night clothes slipped on easier after droplets of moisture were patted off with the soft towel that was eventually put to use atop his head, then thrown into a random pile of assorted clothing upon his carpeted floor.

 

But before the crashing into his own bed was granted, Raphael slipped into his room with a few gentle knocks, closing the door behind himself. His own shorts had changed, and he looked reasonably calmer than what Mikey might have first seen when he was yanked from the tub. Still no shirt though. 

 

Michelangelo snorted.

 

“You’re such a nudist.”

 

A roll of the others eyes was expected. But no retort this time. Instead, he handed the small measured cup of syrup towards the youngest, who stared at it with a disgusted look. It was quickly downed, menthol minting a strange sensation down his esophagus. That seemed to please Raphael, at least.

 

He was disturbingly quiet when he slipped under Michelangelo’s covers as well, and Michelangelo near immediately curled up against his broad form.

 

It was probably just to keep an eye on him.

 

“Love you Mike.”

 

Or whatever, you know.

 

“Love you too Raph.”

 

Either way, Michelangelo didn’t seem to care at the moment.

 

Sleep, was near instant when Raphael’s hands gently stroked his hair in a lulling fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this chapter a few hours late then when I originally said I was going to post it!
> 
> I love you all, and would love your critical opinions if you have them!
> 
> Next chapter in Two Weeks or Sooner!


	3. Reconcile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, This is kind of choppy, not as great as I wanted it to be, and unreasonably shorter that it should have been, but the second have was scrapped because it was a total piece of shit! ^ - ^
> 
> Enjoy this third!

_“It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”_

 

* * *

 

Raphael was gone come morning, but his warmth within the bed still lingered. Mikey rested for a moment, allowing himself to adjust to the disappointing reality that the dawn had come too soon. Surprisingly, he felt like he slept rather stiff compared to his usual nightly thrashing about in his dreams if the lack of severe pain in his face was any sort of significance.

Speaking of which... He would have to go to school like this, wouldn't he?

Splinter was sure to show no pity upon the youngest. His latest string of actions hadn't been the best after all. But hopefully some divine intervention would take place if either Hamato valued their privacy; the school was sure to begin asking questions.

After all, if a low grade student picked on by his colleagues shows up to school with a bruise from hell, people would begin to connect imaginary dots, substitute numbers where there really shouldn't be any. That couldn't lead anywhere even remotely good.

Michelangelo had probably spent enough time lingering in his own thoughts, but getting out of the warm bed that seemed to serenade him back into a drowsy state was better said than done. A disgusting chill crept under his night clothes as soon as he forced the duvet off of his body, and he had half a mind to throw a middle finger to the sun and crawl right back under his sheets like the nocturnal creature he knew he was meant to be.

But for real, if he ever was an animal, he'd probably end up as something lame, like a turtle.

It might be a little cooler though if he was able to retain what ninjutsu skills he had honed from the real world too. Maybe in a perfect world, you know?

However, the thought of an awkward ninja turtle with a lack of social skills was just too funny to be even taken seriously in all honesty. Though, he should really stop goofing off.

Getting dressed should be his main priority. Too bad he hadn't even left his mattress yet...

_______________________________________

An hour and several minutes later, the great feat of getting dressed and ready for another horrible day was soon weighing heavily upon Mikey's shoulders at their meal table.

...As were the stares of his oldest brother. Mike could practically feel his eyes ravaging deep into his soul while he sipped his tea like it was the most nonchalant thing to stare at someone without making any attempt at conversation.

He's sure Leonardo had plenty of questions to ask, like how getting bitch slapped across their kitchen was going so far, but he didn't say jack while Mikey crunched down on his cereal. He just leaned against one of the kitchen countertops while keeping his watchful deep blues focused the younger.

The youngest decidedly chose to break the unnerving silence after dumping the remains of his milk into the sink. His reflection in the shiney bottom was almost ominously taunting. He would need focus to keep the thoughts of his earlier night retching out from his head while rinsing out the glasswear.

"What a way to say good morning." It wasn't exactly gold material, but it was a place to start. Michelangelo fidgeted with the sink faucet briefly, warming the water before lathering each item in soap and rinsing them off. Silence ensued while the water was kept running and the smell of Jasmine wafted over to the younger brother almost instantly.

He’s stressed. Of course he is… He’s almost always stressed, and Mikey was certainly of no help.

"You have a doctors appointment. You aren't going to school today." His voice broke so suddenly through the near frigid silence, that Mikey almost let the bowl slip from his hands. Getting absorbed in your thoughts is a tricky thing, but...

That was... Unexpected?

Certainly not what he had imagined he would hear. Michelangelo turned to look at him after gingerly placing the dishes onto the drying rack, his questions unspoken but clearly there. His brother would probably answer why later, but Leo didn't look at him however, averting his eyes towards the floor. Mikey could only think, That of course he couldn't look him in the eye.

After all, if he had been a second faster the other night, Mikey might have gotten away with just one swat.

"I'll be taking you; Master Splinter has overtime today." That explained why he wasn't downstairs before Michelangelo. Praise be to whatever was watching over him this day.

* * *

It was pretty obvious they were going to need the car when a hard clap of thunder roared overhead as soon as Michelangelo stepped out the door. The shock sent him reeling back into his brother directly behind him, his hands grabbing for purchase and soon finding Leonardo’s own. He could practically feel the concerned stare into the back of his neck, but he didn’t dare turn around to meet it.

Whatever expression he could be currently wearing was nowhere near a semblance of reassuring that Mikey was alright. But he wouldn’t be bested by a little stormy weather. If he had the gumption to talk back to one of the most frighteningly powerful people he knew, then this was a cake walk. Leonardo didn’t say anything when Michelangelo released his hand, sighing out the tension from his rabbiting heart before stepping into the pelting rain, and walking to their car.

After closing and locking the door, his older sibling was close behind him, following at his heels and parting to the left side of the vehicle. Once within it, both found a calmer piece of mind, situating themselves in their respective seats. Their clothes and hair held small droplets of water that dripped off slowly, and absorb themselves into the covers of their seat, leaving them damp and slightly chilled. Michelangelo is actually quite surprised it didn’t snow instead with the sudden drop in temperature.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Leo glancing over frequently; once when he was buckled, again after starting the car, and a final time when a ground shaking thunder clap invoked another startled jump from Mikey.

He was smart to turn on the radio after that. The white noise was quickly tuned into something a bit more spirited given the rainy mood, and if the younger focused, he could almost imagine it wasn’t really raining. It had been nice enough the other day, if he remembered correctly. But the unmistakable pitter patter of rain atop the metal roof fooled neither of them.

Michelangelo hadn’t realized he had been fidgeting with the multitude of multi-coloured bracelets upon his wrists until a warm hand touched his restless one; Leonardo ceasing the impulsive action without removing his eyes from the road.

Leo’s always been like this, the more Mikey thinks about it. Noticing the smaller, seemingly insignificant details about everything. He’s probably the most in-tune person out of all four of the siblings. Pretty much a boy wonder, for lack of a better righteous title.

He’d come up with one later though. Mikey always does.

* * *

The rest of the ride was pretty much exactly what you would expect.

Awkward, a bit tense, and full of weird hand holding.

But Mikey enjoyed every bit of it. It drew his thoughts away from the blatant fact he was going to have to make up something on the spot once he arrived at the hospital. Leo had quietly explained in the waiting room what to say when they checked out his face, something or another about skateboarding and being the typical klutz he was. Yet that didn’t seem to help his nervous jittering at all.

There was something about the overpowering smell of alcohol and harsh white lights drowning out any colour beneath them that just set him on a strange edge of paranoia. He wasn’t afraid of hospitals, No, in fact, he quite liked the visits from time to time with his regular doctor. She was nice and caring, a vivid change from all of the older monotone gentlemen who had previously tended to him. She took his humour well and always did her best to be gentle when tending to his needs.

Naturally, lying to her felt wrong. But he had a general idea of the following consequences if he didn’t. Nobody wanted what came with that...

They sat together for nearly half an hour past the original meeting time until a rather peppy brunette in stark white walked over to them, gently parting Mikey’s hair from his face away from his eyes. His head popped up from the magazine in his lap almost immediately; He could recognize that affectionate gesture in a heartbeat, laughing slightly after pulling his head away.

“What’s up Ms.Jessica?” His cheery tone attracted the attention of his older brother who silently watched the exchange.

There was a brief moment where she was silent upon seeing his face, a flash of concern flitting across her features, but it diminished as quick as it came.

“I should be asking you that kiddo. That’s one hell of a mark.” Jessica quipped, offering a sideways smile to him before turning her attention the Leo.

“Anyways, Sorry for being rude dear, I’m Jessie. But this kid here insists on using my full name.” She politely held a hand out to the older, smiling completely once he shook it firmly. “He just does it to bug me though.”

Leo voiced a chuckle of his own, shaking his head at the all too familiar sensation. “Leo. And I feel your pain. I live with him.”

Michelangelo only breathed a mock offended scoff, rolling his eyes hard because of course Leo would take her side. He tossed the magazine aside quickly, standing up to shake the numbness from his legs.

“Okay, Jessica, let’s get this show on the road, I’m ready to go home and do nothing already.” His tone was nothing short of irritated, but the grin on his lips betrayed him.

Mikey was only answered with a laugh as they followed him down a long hall and into an office decorated with small animal figurines and the typical medical equipment. Hoisting himself onto the chair was fairly easy given that it had been raised down before hand. Leonardo, however, chose to stand near her desk, folding his arms over his chest.

He was guarded. That much was as plainly visible as the bruise on Mikey’s cheek.

Preparing himself to lie, most likely. He never stands like that unless he’s got something to hide.  

Jessica didn’t seem to notice however. She simply did the regular routine before hanging the stethoscope around her neck after touching the end piece around his chest and back. Stepping onto a pedal beneath the seat, Mikey could feel the chair being raised up to a comfortable observing height for his doctor, cursing his 5’2’’ stature more than ever.

“So what happened squirt? You walk into a wall?” A small pen flashlight was pulled from one of her various pockets, clicking on after she pressed her thumb to the opposite end of it. Cold gloved hands tilted Michelangelo’s chin up gingerly before she instructed him to follow the light, watching his eyes rotate in their sockets. He didn’t comment on the annoying pet name.

Meanwhile, Leo hummed behind her, muttering. “Something like that…”

Jessica seemed to pay him no mind however. She simply raised both eyebrows and awaited her patients answer.

“Skateboarding accident. I’m not quite as good as I thought I was.” It was a bullshit answer, but it’s really all he could think of; ‘Falling down the stairs’ sounded too typical and ‘Rough housing with his brothers’ would just lead to more questions.

There was a briefly silent moment where was almost sure she could hear his thoughts, but her slight chuckle was enough to let him breathe out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“ So you’re a putz too huh?” That actually got a rise from the both of them, respectively amused and annoyed…

* * *

**  
  
**

The visit went surprisingly well after she prodded around his cheek. He did his best not to wince back in pain, because what she was doing was important, no matter how much it hurt, but there were moments he couldn’t hold it in and repulsed with a hiss.

From what they knew so far, there was no severe damage, just a heavy bruise that might last around a week or two, much to his dismay. Just to be sure his bones weren’t fractured however, she had pressed the decision of a quick x-ray, leaving them alone back in the small office once they were done.

Waiting for the results in silence was almost unbearable, especially since Leo was doing that weird silent staring thing again, and just like before Mikey adverted his gaze.

In doing such, he didn’t even hear him move forward, let alone see him until he was standing right in front of the patient chair. Warm, heavy hands rested onto the younger’s shoulder, gently tilting him forward until a pair of lips gently met his forehead.

How embarrassing…

Leonardo was already smiling against his skin because he knew, that bastard knew, damn well what his stupid affection was doing to his poor younger brother, because he could probably feel the heat of the flush in his freckled face.

Were Mikey to look up at him however, he would see the bittersweet emotions lingering in his eyes, appearing to be lost anywhere but in that exact moment.

It didn’t last long though, like most good things in their life.

The squeaky door swung open suddenly, and just like that Leo had moved away, choosing to stand by his side instead of in his original spot and shove his hands in his pockets.

Jessica waltzed in, of course, a smile on her face and clipboard in hand. “Well, your face isn’t broken, so that’s good.” His older brother’s small sigh of relief was endearing, but like always, he was too worried.

“You said you haven’t been getting any bad migraines lately, which hopefully means you’ve been taking your meds. Hm, let’s see…”

Oh. Right. He lied about that too. And speaking of which, he’d need to start looking for those things again. They probably rolled underneath his bed.

She flipped the papers back in mild curiosity, pursing her lips. Obviously, she had more questions, but Mikey saw the way her eyes flicked over to his sibling. Not with him around. That could only mean getting personal, and he quite frankly did not want to do that.

“Well, everything seems to be looking fine. If you want, I can send you home with a few creams if the bruising starts to itch or burn for whatever reason, or if you make it worse,” She sent a look his way and Mikey beamed sheepishly, shrugging. No promises. ” But I’m hoping you’ll lay off the skateboarding.” Hah, he’ll be sure to do that.

“Don’t even know how you managed that in this weather, then again, I don’t know how you manage to do most things that get you hurt. I guess this concludes our visit though. ” She chirped, folding over the papers correctly and setting them down on her desk.

With that said and done, Michelangelo hopped off the papered seat, stretching his arms over his head to rest them up and back behind his neck.  

“Well thank you Ms.Je- er, Jessie.” Leo maneuvered around the younger to shake her hand again. “Hopefully, our next visit won’t be any time soon.”

Jessica laughed, returning the gesture and looking back at the blonde. “You’ll never know with this one. I get the feeling he’s just full of surprises.”

* * *

**  
  
**

If anyone’s full of surprises, it’s Leo with his surprise shopping trip. Not even the good kind of shopping either.

Food shopping.

…

Okay, so, food shopping really isn’t all that bad, because seriously, what could possibly be bad about getting food?

Nothing. Food is the best. He just honestly wishes they picked some other store than the one he had chosen. This particular one, that shall not be named for the sake of all the other baby faced males in existence, is full of nothing but elderly women who enjoy asking taller gentlemen to reach things for them and initiating hour long conversations about anything and everything that happens in their lives.

Leo knows he has a strong disliking for this store. Just like pretty much everything else, Leonardo knows.  

He knew when they pulled into the parking lot and had to wait for the absolute slowest pulling out of a front space Mike has ever seen in his goddamned life. He knew when he opened the door to get out after unbuckling, tucking the keys in his front pocket. He especially knew once he had gone to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door with that stupid smirk on his dumb little face.

But Mikey wasn’t going to be a douche and tell him to piss off. He wasn’t going to be that kind of guy. His fate was pretty much set in stone when he grabbed his older brothers out held hand to step onto the wet pavement.

Although, if this was what his punishment was for leaving school the other day, it was a hell of a lot better than another slap in the face.

Heh.

Mikey shoved his hands into his hoodie before increasing his pace to walk by his older brothers side, kicking by small bits of rock just to see them skid out on the wet asphalt. It was pretty much the only interesting thing to watch out in the open unless he wanted to look up and stare at the endless stretch of gray clouds.  

A rush of warm air flooded out the store once they were within close proximity of the automatic doors; the familiar scent of toasted bread and frying food leaving the younger at a mouth-watering realization that he definitely needed something to eat. The gentle yellow hue  from the lights only added to the very warm feel within the building. Random music with an odd jazzy tone jumped around here and there beyond the faint sound of squeaking cart wheels, met with the typical chatter of cashiers near the exits.

The youngest followed his sibling throughout the store with mindless thoughts about the countless items of food stacked on the shelves, picking up random things that mainly consisted of unhealthy ingredients and tossing them into their own buggy upon approval. It wasn’t until they had reached some of the more boring aisles such as grain and the likes, was he sent far off to fetch something Leonardo had forgotten in their previous trail.

Michelangelo couldn’t help but wonder why the hell pasta sauce had to be so far away from the actual pasta itself until he ran face first into one of the other shoppers while he had been busy with counting the grey squares on the checkerboard floor, much to his chagrin.

“Oh! Damn, sorry! My bad!” He apologized with an embarrassed grin, rubbing the nape of his neck after moving a few steps back.

“It’s fine, really, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The other male insisted, laughing at what he had assumed was his own carelessness.

Mikey half shrugged with a chuckle, finally choosing to look up at the latest victim of his clumsy nature. “That’s good I guess, because I totally wasn’t either dude.”

The shoppers dark eyebrows twitched in amusement, and a hand raised up to swipe back his equally shaded hair. “A coincidence then, I ‘m sure... Unless you did that on purpose. Totally wouldn’t blame you.”

Was he really?

It took the blonde a bit of a moment to process exactly what he was implying, but that didn’t impair his comeback in the slightest.

“Oh please. Like I would even have to.” Mikey remarked in such a way that implied unspoken haughtiness.

The male in front of him hummed in mock curiosity, placing a finger on his own chin. “Eh. I guess you’re right.”

At that, Mike scoffed, cocking a brow of his own. “You guess? Whatever. I’m like, abercrombie material.” He pulled at the front of his hoodie in a show of confidence that disappointingly caused another laugh.

“More like Gerber material.”

Wow. What a cheap shot.

It’s not like he could help his extreme condition of baby-face syndrome anyways.

“Blame it on the genes man. I come from a long line of people who look twelve until they’re like, one hundred.” That might have been a race joke. Might have.

“Yeah, yeah, I could see that. I’m Alexander by the way. You can call me Alex.” He switched his small hand held basket into the right, holding out his left.

Mikey shook it with a smile.

“Michelangelo. But, people call me Mikey.” There was a slight moment of silence following, and he’s sure Alex was giving him the typical once over with an odd look on his face. Then again, he may have just been deterred by the giant ass bruise on his cheek because that was certainly attractive. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Most definitely.” Or maybe not. “But, ah, speaking of Gerber, Do you have any idea where the baby formula is?”

The question ‘What?’ might have crossed Mikey’s stuttering mind, but luckily it didn’t reach his lips.

“You look way too young to have a baby.” Instead, that came out. He would have to be quick to cover those tracks. “Though, actually, I do. You’re going the wrong way.”

Alex didn’t seemed fazed by this however, but the slight tint to his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “Actually, my friend just ran out and asked me to do a run for her.”

Mikey would have laughed at himself for always assuming things like that, but he was out in public, and might have seemed just a tad bit crazy.

"I guess babies eat like, fifty times a day or something, cause this always happens."

“Well, that’s certainly nice of you.” Just that simple statement seemed to visibly boost Alex’s pride; his eyebrows raised in a smug sense of accomplishment. Mike only ignored it however, far too familiar with that unnecessary show from his siblings at almost every chance they got.

He sidestepped around the taller male, motioning him to follow. “The formula’s this way. We might be going to the same Aisle, actually.”

* * *

Surprisingly, the short walk to the aisle led to Mikey realizing why it was just a little bit dense of him to think that pasta sauce was anywhere near the baby formula.

Alex didn’t seem to mind though. He wandered around with the blonde until they actually did find what he was looking for; their conversation full of sarcastic quips and dumb wit that would be confusing to any prying ears who hadn’t heard their initial small talk.

A set of prying ears just happened to belong to his older brother, who he had seemingly forgotten about in all ten minutes of being apart from him. He wheeled the cart around the edge of the other aisle with a rather peculiar look on his features, and a lot more food than Mikey had remembered within the buggey.

There was a skeptical glance tossed between the two taller males, obviously for their respective reasons, but Leo was the first to say something in the oddly sudden silence.

“You get what I asked Mike?” Leo inquired, stopping the buggy a few inches behind him.

Michelangelo nodded, holding said item up in a show of triumph before gingerly setting it inside their cart. All the younger received however was a small grunt, and a nod towards the direction of the cashiers. "C'mon. We're done here."

Obviously, if his slightly sour tone was anything to assume by.

Leonardo didn't await the confirmation of his younger brother before wheeling the cart to the end of the aisle, and lining up behind one of the few shopper.

Mikey quickly turned back with a forgiving smile at his elders rudeness, but Alex didn't seem to be offended in the slightest. Instead, he gave a small shrug, pushing back his hair from his eyes once more.

"I get that kinda reaction a lot actually." He explained, pulling his phone from his back pocket.

That sent Michelangelo's thoughts reeling back a few steps, but again, it was nothing he couldn't recover from.

"So you hit on random guys at the store pretty often, huh?" The blonde rocked back on his heels with a grin, knowing he's at least cornered the poor fellow into a limited number of answers.

Alexander just didn't seem to be out of answers just yet however. "Only the really really cute ones. " His thumb clicked an upper hand button on the device in his palm and slid across the glowing screen a few times before handing it over almost hopefully to Mikey.

It was an 'Add Contact' screen. That was pretty smooth, because Mikey found himself at a sudden loss for words, and he's pretty sure if he even tried opening his mouth he'd stutter like a little bitch.

He narrowed his eyes slightly before taking the cell phone, typing in his number and name. There wasn't much said said after that however, because the call of his name being heard was enough to set his legs into motion towards the exit after a short exchange of goodbyes.

_______________

By the time they had gotten all the groceries bagged and ready to be put into the trunk of Leo's car, Mikey had completely forgotten about his earlier hunger, the only thing filling his mind being the rough sound of plastic lined wheels against the uneven pavement beneath them.

The vibrations from such actions sent a tingling numbness that started at his fingertips and   developed into an itch into his palms. His brother still walked silently beside him with such an expression he could only describe as contemplatively confused; his brows shifted forward and a slight frown dipping the corners of his lips down.

That elicited a chuckle from the younger, causing the darker set of blue eyes to rest on him curiously.

“You’re making that face Raph does when he’s in Geometry.” Mike explained, wheeling their cart up to the rear end of their mountaineer. It tapped against the dark painted surface lightly to the side to allow enough space for their trunk to pop open with a small cli-click.

Leo didn’t share his amusement however, simply grabbing bag after bag and gently placing them into the open space. He wasn’t completely silent though, opening his mouth after a few moments.

“Did you know that guy?”

Mikey honestly should have expected that question to come, but for some reason, the tone of his brother threw him off.

“Friend from school.” He’d be better off thinking that, rather than knowing Alex was a complete stranger. “Why?”

Leonardo didn’t answer him straight away. In fact, the younger could even say he hesitated before giving a dismissive shrug of his shoulder, shaking his head at the same time.

“Nah, nothing. He just gave off a weird vibe.”

___________________________________________

**  
  
**

The ride home was spent in comfortable silence. They arrived home, roughly around three hours before their school let out, allowing enough time to empty the brown paper bags of groceries and place the food into it’s proper place.

Little was said between the two as this was done and they parted their separate ways after hauling everything inside. Leonardo had seemed to fall into one of his typical quiet thinking moments, leaving Mikey to traipse upstairs and back into his room. Despite the scarce time they had spent outside of their home a light fatigue had laden his body, causing a yawn or two to slip from his mouth after entering his room, shutting the door behind himself.

Upon climbing atop his bed after throwing his jacket carelessly to the floor, he let himself sink (on his good side of course) into the disarray that was thick blankets and far too many pillows then what one would deem an entirely necessary amount. He could spot a few stuffed animals scattered about the end of his bed, staring him intensely down from their haphazard positions between the curled wire frame and his mattress.

They were calling to him. He could only obey.

In a quick motion, Michelangelo flopped up, arranging himself onto his knees to pull them out from their confines and throw them softly to the head of his bed, quickly complying an impressive mass. After conforming to their bidding, he was going to lay down once more before he had realized that there was entirely too much room on his queen for just one person and a few stuffed animals. There was no reason he couldn’t bust out the whole population of furry creatures that seemed to inhabit his own living space more than he did.

After about half an hour of amassing every plushed animal that he could possibly find, his bed soon supported a new layer of ridiculously huge and adorably small creatures for Mikey to wallow in.

And wallow he did.

His majestic leap into the fluffy sea was admittedly more of a half assed dive, and even then, that was pushing it considering that it was more of an exuberated flop. Probably wasn’t the smartest idea, given that he jerked his head away with a hiss when one particular buttoned snout nosed into his bruise, but all was forgiven after some imaginary apologies.

He quickly buried himself beneath the characters and eventually, with some skillful maneuvering, beneath his duvet as well with as few casualties as possible.

Sleep was now inevitable. There was no escaping the heavy fog lulling him into security.

His eyelids shut slowly. A heady warmth overtook him and with a final lethargic breath, he slept.

________________________________________________

**  
  
  
**

Dreams were something Michelangelo could rarely recall. Not in the sense that he forgot them the moment he woke up, but more so that he simply just…

Didn’t want to remember them. They always seemed to reflect on the moments he hated most in his life; a vivid reminder of what should have happened compared to what actually did.

That’s typically why he always fell into the lightest of sleeps. Michelangelo would startle awake at the slightest squeaking of the stairs; a clear sign that his brothers were coming up, they purposely did such to prevent sneaking up on each other. (Nothing good ever came of a startled Hamato.)

But this small fact was how he could immediately distinguish the soft and slow paced knocks on his door. Just the idea of who it was put a low unsettling tension into the pit of his gut. If he wasn’t completely awake a few minutes ago, he certainly was now. He sat straight up, willing the blood not to rush to his head while scooting back against his bed’s top frame, several stuffed animals squashed up against his side in his left arm.

His eye opened the minute he heard his door creak open and a fist rose to rub at his bleary sight from the lights of the hallway filling into his dark room.

“Michelangelo?”

Father.

Should there be a moment in which Mikey so desperately wished his voice hadn’t sounded so small, it would have been when he replied back with an almost timid: “Yes, father?”

He could almost hear the wince in that hard gaze set upon him. Mikey watched as the door further opened, allowing his dad to enter before it swung shut once more. Even his approach to his bedside was cautious; the perspicacious expression he normally upheld seemed more perturbed at the wayward situation he faced.

The side of his bed soon dipped with the new weight where his father sat stiffly, hands gripping the thick duvet unconsciously. The older Hamato’s skittish behaviour was beginning to make the younger fidget with the plush animals he had tucked beneath his arms.

Then came the clearing of his throat, and finally, his father looked at his son undeviatingly. No words came from his mouth, however. Nothing but a deep sigh.

Though if Michelangelo had seen his fathers hand lift in time, he would have flinched, but he knew better. His father wasn’t aiming to hit him a second time. His long harbored pride wouldn’t allow such a disgraceful action twice.

A glitter of contempt flitted through the earthy brown orbs, the small sagacious lines of age pulling at the corner of his eyes into an expression akin to contempt. There was a ginger touch sweeping across the hot bruised cheek; Michelangelo kept his gaze cast downwards while his father’s hand explored what he had done.

“I was so worried…” Came the low, somber mumble. It rumbled over Michelangelo’s conscious like the soft warning of thunder before a storm, bewitching his attention. Warily, he turned his eyes up to meet his father's. He could immediately tell there was so much more to be said. All that came though, was another tired sigh. “You didn’t deserve this.”

The gentle thumb became a finger that tucked the thick, unruly blonde curls behind Mikey’s ear, and graduated into a warm, heavy palm situated in the unharmed expanse of his neck beneath his jaw.

Michelangelo didn’t need to hear much more to know that this was his father’s subtle way of seeking forgiveness. It was his turn to speak.

“I’m okay,” was Mikey’s serene response, that would unspokenly translate into ‘We’re okay’.

Unweildingly, the hand placed onto his neck slipped down to his shoulder to pull him forward, and a pair of lips met his forehead for the second time that day.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever just cringe re-reading things?
> 
> Yeah. 
> 
> ugh.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."_

* * *

 

 

As the week progressed, the busy afternoons of New York turned crisp and windy. The oncoming of an early winter loomed nearer. Days were no warmer; clouds remained ever present in the sky, and the peeking rays of sun were often brief and fleeting.

 

Gentle rains moistened the ground and left glittering morning frost clinging to buildings and traffic lights. Bustling people, once in shorts and loose clothing, now hurried about in thick woolen coats and heavy boots. The city's seemingly constant noise was now smothered by the monochrome weather, with the only sign of a day ending being the routine glow of street-lamps while their own little dome of sky bled a darker shade of grey, then became engulfed in a sheet black.

 

It was not rare for the night to reveal bright jagged stripes of electricity among coiled bouts of cloud, crackling like the harsh snap of a whip. Following it resonate drum rolls of thunder being chased by whistling winds, declaring forceful smattering rain drops.

 

These were nights that Michelangelo could not bring himself to sleep through. Leave it to his attraction for the beautifully dangerous to draw his upper body out of his open bedside window. Icy water beat down and prickled his skin numb, soaking through his shirt that seemed torn between fluttering with the wind and sealing itself to his wet skin.

 

His hair matted itself against his skull, sandy curls falling in soft waves behind his ears. Not in rare occasion, he would find himself lost in a world of his own after the storm was long gone, and all that remained was the scent. His clothes and hair dripped dry while minutes of standing and staring out at nothing melded into hours.

 

Unsurprisingly, it is always Leonardo's warm hand that pulls him away from the cold, steering him into his arms after locking the window shut. Like clockwork, he creeps in at two a.m. Each time, Mikey never hears him, never knows he's there until Leo stands right behind him, with the warmth of his bare chest rolling off in waves against his own stiff nightshirt.

 

A hand finds his-- larger, but not unfamiliar in the slightest. It guides his aching body to the bed, eases him beneath the covers, and locks their fingers tight until sleeps beckoning becomes too strong to ignore. On a good morning, Mikey still finds him sleeping beside him, or trapping him in his arms until his alarm goes off. It is with how quick he responds, silencing the repetitive beeps the second they begin, that he suspects Leo never slept at all.

 

He can't pretend he doesn't understand why. Feigning ignorance is the best he can do when Leonardo begins to sit up, gently nudging him awake as well, even when he knows neither of them were asleep to begin with. The morning is still and grey, casting in a cool light from the window; long shadows stretched over the light of his room.

 

They sit in silence, with little space in between; Michelangelo looking up at his brother with a patient stare, whilst Leonardo studies something on the wall. "You can't keep doing this," he states, now turning to stare back. There has a solid moment where the younger simply blinks, as if he doesn't already know how to respond. A minute passes before he reaches up, softly kissing his brother's cheek.

 

He stands and the bed creaks with the loss of weight. "Okay." Is all he can say back, with a soft smile, and empty eyes. Leo lingers on the bed. He watches Mikey turn away, walking to his doorless closet to pull out a shirt, and replace the one he was already wearing. He's still there when Mikey turns back around, approaching him with insufficient curiosity.

 

It is a staring game again- this time with a disapproving frown to rival Mikey's patience. The soft back of his fingers caress Leo's downturned tips, forcing his face into a more neutral expressing. They sweep across his high cheek bone, and glide past his dark hairline, pushing his bangs back with his palm. His short nails dance idly on his scalp, and down to the nape of his neck. And finally, that impenetrable guard slips, and

 

Michelangelo can't remember a time where his oldest brother looked so lost. Something about that forlorn expression must have caused his own face to do something he was unaware of. Hot tears cascaded over his fingers.

 

_Why does he feel so much relief knowing that for once, they were not his own?_

 

Michelangelo found trembling hands grasping at his waist, and his brothers face pressed hard into his stomach.

The soft shuddering sobs shook the both of them until they were in the bed, laying down with Leo now trapped in Mikey's embrace. Eventually all noise tapered off with a few heavy sighs. It was unclear of who they came from. Though, as it was often known to do, the silence was broken.

 

A hoarse voice clambered through.

 

"I love you."

 

Of course.

 

"I know... I love you too, Leo."

 

He knew that already.

 

"Then don't leave me," he whispered.

 

_Never._

 

But the word got caught in Michelangelo's throat.

°°°°

 

One could think that morning never happened with how Mikey’s stationary little life continued on. He couldn’t say that soothing his family’s breakdown was a common occurrence, but their pent up frustration; the anger and confusion that caused them to crumble…

Their problems eased with a new day and a lesson learned. Mikey couldn’t help but envy.

How could he not, when they fixed themselves right where the hurt began? Everything had become so numb, so quickly. The days were a blur of medication and a consistent churning in his gut that ranged from mildly annoying, to completely unbearable.

 

Yet it wasn't a physical hurt.

 

There was no real pinpoint to his heavy discomfort, but the surrealism that he might have always carried the emptiness terrified him to no end. It was selfish of him to want something better, after all he's been given already. Though still, his craving for something tangible and engaging, good or bad... Insurmountable.

 

He could continue the happy-go-lucky facade. Things could continue with their ignorance; it would be a weight off of everyone’s shoulders. Thus, Michelangelo wished for the worst with no idea what the best could be.

 

_The answer came in a simple text._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Its been quite a while since I've touched this story, but I'm determined to finish it! Feel free to hunt this thing down on FanFiction, where I always post the latest chapter first! 
> 
> Thank you for the encouragement, and always feel free to drop in your opinion, as its always taken into consideration (and usually incorporated in my story! )

**Author's Note:**

> Eh? EEEEEEEhhhhh? What do you think? Should I continue? Yeas? No? 
> 
> Too bad. I worked too hard on the whole synopsis to just abandon it here and now. I'll be adding another chapter in a week or so?
> 
> Do tell if you like it! I might even consider writing in your very own cameo into my story!


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